I Scream


I Scream

Darkness led me into sin
cause I invited Darkness in
my loneliness drove me astray
and I had thought it child’s play.

Wrapped inside his macabre wings
I heard the Darkness whispering,
”You’ll never be away from me,
with me for all eternity.”

The Darkness knew me like a glove
replacing hate where once was love
chuckling as it emptied me
drinking deep with empathy.

If I had lived the way I should
if I had stronger will I could
but Darkness won and reigns supreme
and I? I scream a mouthless scream!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Artwork from a Google search.

Written for the prompt scream with my friends at Poets United.


The End Is (Near) Here


The End Is (Near) Here

Discovering new medicines
prolonging life and more
it wasn’t enough to save us
not many could afford.

Grocery shelves were empty
nuclear reactors failed
the planet overcrowded
the toxic air inhaled.

The dumping and the oil spills
went on with no relief
it all went in the water
to percolate beneath.

”The end is near,” the soothsayer wrote
his words died where he lay
no one was left to notice
the end was here today.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I couldn’t help but write a second poem for this prompt I had so many thoughts about it. Money isn’t the only evil, we are an imperfect people with more of us born on this earth every day. I believe there will be a day of reckoning and hope it goes better than this. Written for the prompt money with my friends at Poets United.




Money, pays the rent
but before the month is over
all your money’s spent.

Money, not the most important thing
but if you don’t make enough
you’ll be living on a shoestring.

Money, some have it all
they’re treated like royalty
while we worship their beck and call.

Money, with it you can be president
beware of false prophets
you’ll be wondering where your money went.

Money, it’s just fancy paper
you can’t even eat it
yet it’s a world shaper.

Money, it’s something we all need
but if you can’t get a job
you cannot succeed.

Money, it doesn’t seem fair
its exhausting making ends meet
living on hope and a prayer.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Not to be confused with the Pink Floyd song, Money. Image: Google search from The Jetsons. Written for the prompt money with my friends at Poets United.

New Day


New Day

At first light, I wake up to a new day
ready to get up with the dew, day.

On TV, the news misconstrues, day
weeding out the fake news that’s untrue, day.

Stymied, I could use a breakthrough day
something to help me make do, day.

I feel like I’m stuck in a queue, day
the feeling is like deja vu, day.

Feeling down, you’re the one I turn to, day
you tell me you’re coming to woo, day.

I impatiently wait to see you, day
with you, it won’t be a blue day.

The calendar tells me it’s Tuesday
he’s here, so I bid you adieu, day.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

We are trying a ghazal today at dVerse~Poets Pub. A new form for me.

Lines And Wrinkles

Lines And Wrinkles

I found a photograph
taken on my behalf
it was a moment seized
for which I’m unappeased
showing off my age
it sent me in a rage!

My eyes to me looked glazed
my wrinkled skin amazed
I hold to this belief
age causes most my grief.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written for the prompt reflecting on mirrors with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub. When I think of mirrors I can’t help but think of aging.



Returning from the war I locked away my gun
put away my uniform and that part of me
I was already damaged and not quite whole
thrown back into the world with bleak uncertainty
doubt funnels through my brain like a sieve
while I sit on a slab of ebbing confusing emotions
a large oscillating wave of self-doubt pressing against me
it never leaves me even when I pretend to sleep
I feel it’s weight upon me even now as I try to speak
a cell-block encasing my heart even though I try to break free
I ask my maker every day, what will become of me?

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

The prompt was weapon and I could have added it to the poem but this (fantasy) soldier is a weapon himself, taught to both use and become a weapon. Once home, our soldiers find it hard to turn off these learned behaviors and stop the bad memories from returning home with them.

Deactivate-remove from active duty in the military.

I used the animated GIF to write my poem and found it during a Google image search.

Written with my friends at Poets United.

Walking Through Doors


Walking Through Doors

The doorway arrived in the nick of time
at the stroke of midnight before the first fireworks
wide open, brightly illuminated and full of promise
on the brink, I took my departure.

New doors open to us throughout life
some require keys before opening
some demand a pound or two of flesh
a lesson learned, an entrance earned.

Sometimes we balk at the opening
without realizing we’re on a new threshold
like not recognizing the dawn of a new day
letting that door slam shut in our faces.

Cooling our heals in the vestibule
aware and anxious to make our emergence
an unmarked exit opens to the unknown
that first step can be a real bitch!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

So many doorways so little time. Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt doorway(s).